


Roseline

by mockalope



Category: Coraline - Fandom, Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coraline AU, Disney AU, Homestuck AU, Other, don't expect much out of this because it's kind of one of those things okay, no-sburb au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:31:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockalope/pseuds/mockalope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rose is Coraline and stuff happens in the same manner as the movie because why not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roseline

The sight of the old, pink house was a pitiful one. One that brought a crinkle to the nose and made it's new inhabitant long for the comfortable grey of what she once knew.  
Roseline Lalonde did not like her new home, not one bit. She did not like the way the paint peeled off its exterior, nor the way the navy blue shutters hung limp on their hinges. She was not fond of the growing weeds upon the path to the stairs, which were damp with rot and mold and creaked beneath her feet as she ascended them to the front door of the home, the dirty tinge of which she was not terribly fond.

She did not find appeal in the loose shingles on the roof, or the strange noises coming from its single open window. She utterly detested the mildew stench of the porch, which wasn't much better on the inside. She did not enjoy the dim lighting that streamed in through dusty old window glass, nor the cobwebs that were strung up with the seemingly lazy craftsmanship of whatever species of arachnid dwelled within.

There was nothing to enjoy about the cold, stale air inside the house. Her breath could be seen when she exhaled - it was a rather cold summer, after all. Not even the once-amusing game of pretending to be a mighty, fire-breathing (or rather, steam) dragon could ward off the chill's bitter bite. Her nose was reddened, her outermost extremities beginning to numb as to preserve what little remaining warmth her small frame could lay claim upon.

Roseline did not appreciate the way the house seemed so open. She'd always been one to prefer much more closed-off environment, one boasting privacy above all else, one that was not such as this. She did not find it charming that there was but one fireplace in the whole of the flat, one so dusted with the filth of many years' pasts that it was much more ashen than cream in colour. She despised how the particles of the same sort of filth hung in the air in the same way her breath did. It was wretched, much like the house.

Another thing she did not find joy in was the horrid squeaking of the stairs inside, the ones that ultimately led to her own room, and perhaps a few others she wasn't certain of the use for. Perhaps they would fall prey to her mother's eccentric collection of wizard statues - god was perhaps the only one who know the number of pieces in her collection, though. Perhaps that would be the place where she would find the least excitement of all. Only time could tell.

The second floor of the house was, as expected, equally as dreary as the first, if not more so. The wallpaper was every bit as filth-dusted as the singular fireplace mantle and every bit as worn and faded as the paint on the house's outside. It was old-fashioned and tacky, and Roseline made it a point not to look at it as she passed.

The first room on the right was her own. She turned the knob and the door, which made a rather unpleasant sound as it went, swung open, the knob slipping from her fingers at the sight within.

A vastly emptied space, save a few of her furnitures, nothing of real note in the girl's eyes. She was not impressed, yet she did not find it to be a disappointment. No, this room was precisely as boring and drab as every other, just as her expectations had predicted beforehand.

Roseline, leaving her door open for the time being, seeing as the room was dusty and needed to air-out a bit, made her way to the window. It was nearly impossible to see out, so she pulled down her sleeve a bit and rubbed it furiously over the old glass, the usual glass-cleaning squeaks accompanied with her huffs of distaste.

From her window, she could see the yard out front. It was not the sight she'd been after - that, of course, was the garden - but it was a sight indeed, and perhaps in a more negative light than should have been.

From her window, she could see weeds. Many, many weeds. From the window, she could see the old dirt path her family had taken, the old, greyed sign advertising the Pink Palace, - which was the farthest from appropriate name she could think of - the seemingly-endless spanse of trees, most of which were still in their autumn garb due to the unnatural cold.

From her window could be seen a small section of the world around her, the new world she would be forced to accept as her own. Roseline was not fond of this, not one bit, and in her unfondness, she turned abruptly and left the window.

There were three boxes on her floor: one held toys and games, things she felt she no longer quite needed as a young teen; another held books, things better suited to her interests, mainly fantasy tales of wizards and magicians all their majyykal escapades; the final held her clothing.

Roseline opened the final box, rooted through until she came across her prize: a violet-and-lavendar-stripe scarf, which she promptly wrapped around her neck, and a knit hat with a small purple puff-ball on the top, which she pulled on over her unusual platinum hair. There were no matching gloves, as the only she possessed were a dull grey, much to her immediate displeasure. No matter. Mother would purchase new gloves in due time, and that's when she'd have her matching pair.

The young girl hurried from the room - not without closing her door, of course - and down the squeaky old stairs. She passed her mother, who was in the kitchen unpacking a box of her finest glassware - most of which were martini glasses. Her father, who was carrying in a box of his own, probably full of old fedoras or shaving cream, was also ignored. She was a girl on a mission, and the misson was plain.

In her time in the old Pink Palace flat, she'd met a pair of rather strange elderly ladies in the flat directly below her own. Miss Maryam and Miss Serket were their names. As they'd told her many a time, 'We were once quite famous in the theater.' Each time she thought of those words, she could only hear it in Miss Maryam's strange accent, something of an old South-Asian type.

Roseline had never been inside their shared flat downstairs, but she was certain it was much more exciting than the boring one her family had chosen to move into.  
Above her flat was a rather peculiar man by the name of Strider; she had also never been to his flat, but oft she could find him out on the roof doing whatever it was he did, something of which she never bothered to question.

Outside, the chilly air bit at her nose, keeping it a particular shade of pink to match her cheeks. Roseline didn't mind the cold, though it certainly wasn't preferred. She preferred the warmth that allowed her plants to flourish, something she'd had well enough back home in New York. Why on earth her parents had relocated to the outskirts of London, England, she'd never quite be able to wrap her head around.

Roseline wandered down the path winding off from the side of the Pink Palace, the one that was old and looked unused. Trees lined the far side, acting as a sort of barrier - one of which would not deter our fine heroine's curiosities - between the Palace and the forest. There was little to hold her back from venturing inside, but that would have to wait.  
Along the path, one could find a plethora of dying plants, mainly weeds and unattractive things of that nature. Roseline felt a pang of sympathy for the poor old Palace - no one knew how to tend the yard, it seemed, and it was a rather sad fact indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't finished, I would like to point out, but I didn't really know where to divide for chapters so I just kind of didn't try. Whoops.
> 
> This is my first attempt at basing something off a Disney movie so like I'd especially appreciate feedback on anything and everything. Thanks for sticking with me while I put up more junk that isn't my JohnDave fic.


End file.
